Tamara opens the door to the dark apartment. The air reeks of stale smoke, and she shakes her head as she makes her way through the empty living room without putting on the light. Bastard couldn’t hardly wait for her to be gone before polluting the air. It’s one thing smoking up outside. God, now all of the clothes she’s come to collect will reek. The married student residence is not a very big space after all. She’s reaching for the bedroom door when she hears groaning, then she pushes it open.
She freezes in the doorway as she is hit with the pungent smell of sex. The venetian blinds are cracked open just enough to illuminate flashes of the beast with two backs writhing in her bed.
Bastard.
A wave of red passes in front of Tamara’s eyes and her jaw clenches for one brief moment as she wishes she had a gun or a chainsaw or something.
Tamara whirls and stomps out, tears washing away the red of pure fury that’s blurring her vision just the same. Over the past year she’s come to realize Quentin is a loser but at least he was her loser. She never in a million years thought he’d be fucking someone else.
In her bed.
Can’t go five minutes without gettin’ some.
Prick.
Couldn’t wait for her.
Cocksucker.
Wouldn’t go to class.
Motherfucker.
Didn’t pull his own weight.
Bastard.
That is it, this marriage is done. No more being screwed over. She fumbles with the bolt and pushes the door open, then stumbles into the clean cold fresh air.
No. No. No. Oh god, what a mess she’s made of her life. At least she hasn’t totally fucked up school.
She fucking loved that sumbitch.
How could he DO this to her.
Daddy will be happy anyway, she thinks, as she makes her way along the path. He never did care for Q. She pulls out her cellphone but has to rub her eyes because she can’t see to dial. Screw it. She’s not gonna go back to Barbie’s again. She’s going to the pub.
Fuck him. Um, no. Not him. She smiles through her tears. Fuck somebody. Anybody. Somebody new. Sauce for the goose. This goose is gonna find a new friend tonight. A stud who’ll take her home and fuck her blind. Oh yes. And a lawyer who will help her fuck that bastard Q over tomorrow.
Find a new apartment without any garbage.
ยง
The cool night air seeps into the front room, chilling Quentin. He shivers on the recliner and opens his eyes. His back is stiff as hell and his head aches something fierce. The god damned door is hanging open.
Scrubbing his face with his hands he gets up and slams the door that’s letting the cold air turn this dive into a walk-in freezer before stumbling into the kitchen.
Quentin splashes water on his face. He stiffens as he hears a noise behind him. Suddenly sober, Quentin whirls. But its only Jose padding out of the bedroom wearing only socks and underwear.
“Everything okay Q? I heard the door slam.”
Quentin raises his eyebrows. “Making yourself at home?”
Glad at least that Tamara isn’t here to see Jose in all his glory.
Jose grins. “You were passed out and Mouse got a little bit frisky so we borrowed your room. Hope that’s okay, bro.”
Quentin thinks it’s disgusting. Last thing he wants it to sleep on somebody else’s wet spot. But what he says is, “It’s cool.”
Jose leans against the counter, stretching. “She’s gone all nervous like she’s afraid you’d come in. Got any more beer?”
Turning to the the fridge Quentin feels a pang of remorse as he comes face to face with Tamara’s schedule. Fucking smoking up. Totally forgot, and so he missed her again.
Quentin grabs a couple bottles of beer, passing one to Jose. They pop caps in unison then clink bottles before they drink. “Good times and good friends.” says Quentin.
Hearing the bitterness Jose asks, “Heard from Tamara?”
Quentin just shakes his head.
“Bummer.”
